Silhouetted Persona
by seratonix
Summary: Faye has been traveling alone for the first three years of the apocalypse, surviving and facing the undead. However, when a group of suspicious men surrounds her in the forest, she wonders if this is the end for her. They tell her that everything in this land is Negan's, leaving her with many unanswered questions before she is bound and thrown into the back of a trunk. Negan X OC
1. A Vagabond No More

It was a gloomy September night; the shadows danced in the twilight and the growls of my undead neighbors fell silent. The fire I built earlier that afternoon became exhausted and extinguished quite some time ago. Although my eyes grew heavy and my limbs were aching, I couldn't bring myself to let the breeze and the sounds of the forest lull me to sleep.

In this world, I had to be constantly vigilant and aware of my surroundings. Before the apocalypse, however, I idled and carelessly danced my way through life. My naive tendencies and obliviousness were barriers that shattered once I came face to face with my undead father. He was the first walker I ever saw, and the image of him gnawing on my mother's flesh is something that still haunts me to this day. That was nearly three years ago, and I find that I still see my father's face among the walkers that I come across.

* * *

My reminiscing was brought to an abrupt halt by the sound of leaves and branches crackling somewhere close-by. I was incorrect to assume it was walkers because for once, it wasn't. One set of footsteps grew into two and only rose from that point on. Although the wooded area around me was drenched in darkness, I knew in my gut that I was surrounded.

"Don't move," a man's voice barked just as I reached for my machete. I pulled my arm back toward me, my fingers trembling and hovering over the scabbard.

"Hands up, nice and easy."

Multiple guns cocked, causing my knees to subtly quake beneath me. The footsteps commenced again, the foliage crunching under the heaviness of their boots. I slowly allowed my hands to rise above my head, trying to cope with the fact that there were guns trained on me and every movement that I made.

"There, now that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

A shadowy figure loomed out of the darkness and into my field of vision. My first instinct was to reach down to my blade, but my arms felt as if they were frozen solid, permanently reaching for the evening sky.

"Ah, so you're a woman," he mumbled as he drew near close enough to study me. I hesitated to respond, my eyes fixated on his every move. I realized that this wasn't the best time for sarcastic remarks, so I held my tongue and let the man draw near and look at me.

"What's your name, girl?"

Silence lingered in the air for several moments as I pondered whether or not I should lie, tell the truth, or if it really mattered either way.

"Speak when you're spoken to."

"Faye," I uttered quietly although loud enough for him to hear. I decided to tell the truth, but my final decision was that it didn't make a difference whether I did or not.

"So, Faye," the man said quite sarcastically, "are you aware that this land you are on belongs to Negan?"

I was extremely perplexed at this point, pondering on who this Negan character could possibly be and why the hell he was able to dictate what land was or wasn't his. I scoffed in response, immediately regretting that decision. The man forcefully grabbed my chin, gently resting a loaded pistol straight against my forehead. My face drained of all color. It was one thing to have guns pointed at you from afar, however it was nothing compared to the feeling of one pressed against your skin.

"That's right, girlie," the man said with a chuckle, "you better watch yourself."

After a few moments of absolute horror, he yanked his hand away and withdrew the small handgun.

"So, to continue what I said before your extremely impolite interruption, it isn't just the land that's his, it also happens to be whatever's in it. So hand over everything, and I mean every single little thing you have."

This was beyond fucked up, but there was little I could do besides cooperate. I slowly let my hands descend and I began to remove the weapons that clung to me. It wasn't easy for me to have to give up my only source of protection. I withdrew my machete from the sheath, slowly handing it to the stranger.

"Negan wants the sheath too."

It took less than a minute to be stripped of all my weapons, and once that was done, a few of the men swooped in to gather up the rest of my gear and supplies.

"Am I free to go now that you've taken everything from me?"

"No, sweetheart. Unfortunately not," he told me, taking a few seconds to scratch at the neatly kept mustache on his aging face.

"Yeah, hmm," he mumbled, beginning to pace around me, "you see, I said that every single thing on this land belongs to him. And you just so happen to be on this land. Does that make sense?"

I took a sharp inhale.

"Dwight, would you be so kind and bind this woman's hands? I'm really not feeling up to it."

Panic began to rise and boil within me. Shit. This was not good. Shit. Just, shit. Another man, this Dwight I assume, appeared behind the first. He bent down beside me, gently taking my hands and wrapping them as loose as he possibly could for me.

"I'm sorry," he muttered underneath his breath, "just a word of advice, stay out of trouble. You'll find out soon enough what they do to people who don't follow the rules. I would know because I was one of them."

Once the knots were tied, Dwight withdrew back to the shadows.

"All done, Simon," he reported as he left the scene completely.

"Good, thank you, my man," Simon grumbled in a low voice, "now, you two over there! Get her into the truck, and blindfold her just to be safe. I don't want her seeing anything."

Before I knew it, two men grabbed me forcefully, dragging me to the truck that would take me to either my imprisonment, death or both. A piece of fabric was wrapped tightly over my eyes. It rendered me completely visually unaware of my surroundings.

"Have a nice ride, Faye!" Simon exclaimed with a strong presence of sarcasm in his voice. I scoffed, and that's all that I remember before I was struck with what I assumed to be a pistol and lost consciousness.

"What if she doesn't wake up?" A familiar voice whispered angrily.

Maybe it was Dwight...I wasn't sure. My head was throbbing incessantly.

"For fuck's sake, man. Get yourself together. If she doesn't wake up, then fine, she's the enemy anyway! Hasta la vista, goodbye. She dies. If she does wake up, then whoop-de-fucking-doo! What happens, happens. Now go get yourself a drink or something and stop being a pathetic excuse for a Savior."

I groaned slightly, but I guess it had already been after Dwight had left. Damn. My eyes were too heavy to open, but that didn't stop me from doing everything I was able to convince them I was still alive. There was no response, just silence. It was eerie, but honestly quite calming. I would much rather be faced with the silence than the sounds of walker growls or gunfire.

* * *

Later that day, after several hours of slipping in and out of consciousness, I could finally begin to open my eyes.

"Faye?"

I didn't recognize this man's voice.

"Hey, can you hear me? If you can, my name is Dr. Carson and I've been taking care of you. You've been in a coma for a few weeks. They weren't going to keep you here past a month. You're very lucky to have woken up in time. The pistol that you were struck with caused a concussion, and you ended up in my care later that night. Everything has healed, I assure you, it was just the matter of you waking up."

I fully opened my eyes, the blinding white light of the infirmary greeting me back to the world. It felt like the breath had been taken out of my lungs.

"Doctor..." I mumbled, trying to sit up before instantly being laid back down. "Where am I?"

A worried look stretched across his face and seeing that made me realize that I needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

"You're in a place called The Sanctuary, however, it's anything but that. They wanted me to save you, yes, but don't assume it was for good intentions. Our leader, Negan, believes people are a resource and need to be used until they have exhausted all viability."

"Your leader is fucked up in the head," I replied with a smirk that I used to mask my anger.

Dr. Carson nodded, affirming my assumption.

"I gave us a little time to talk, but if you'll excuse me, I need to radio the others and let them know of your condition."

He slipped away from the hospital bed over to a very cluttered desk with folders, papers, and pens scattered everywhere. You could tell from looking at this man that he was being spread thin; the worry lines and wrinkles on his face gave it away. It makes me wonder how long he's been here.

"Come in, Negan. This is Carson."

"Can I fuckin' help you, doc?"

I tuned in to their conversation. Negan's voice was rough, but also had a certain smoothness to it. Just from his voice and the way he spoke, you could tell he was confident.

"Faye is awake. She's stable and is responding very well to stimuli."

"Well, holy fucking shit. I'll be goddamned. I'll be down there in a little bit."

"Yes, sir. We'll be expecting you."

There was no other answer from Negan, however, Dr. Carson came scurrying back to my side.

"You need to listen to me, Faye. Whatever you do, do not disrespect this man. He is set on horrible punishments for even minor indiscretions. He has rules, and you don't know them yet, but you need to be smart about this. Just, be respectful."

I nodded, both physically and mentally, letting my eyes close for a bit while I waited. I wasn't scared. Sure, a surge of anxiety panged throughout my body, but I wouldn't let myself fear him. He is planning on me cowering and wants to use that to his advantage. He wants to have control over me. That's what all the people in power in this walker-ridden world want. I let my mind wander until I heard the door to the infirmary begin to open. I kept my eyes closed.

"Is she asleep?" Negan mumbled to Dr. Carson.

I kept my eyes shut tight until a firm hand was placed on my shoulder. Whoever it was, shook me gently until I decided to open my eyes again.

A man stood above me. He was quite handsome, tall, and had greying hair with a five o'clock shadow to accompany it. His hazel eyes were calm, but they were locked on my face.

"Hey, darlin', how the fuck are you?" He questioned in a hushed tone, pulling up a chair to the side of the bed. "Dr. Carson, if you would give us some time to talk, that would be fuckin' great. Thanks."

My eyes followed Dr. Carson as he left me alone with this stranger.

"I'm fine, just tired. Head still hurts."

"Did he tell you how long you were out?"

I nodded, concentrating on his every move.

"That was one hell of a nap, kiddo," he spoke low and quiet with a concerned demeanor.

I cracked a smile not only because it was true, but to show respect as Dr. Carson advised. I had so many insults ready, most of them about how shitty his men were, but obviously, I kept them to myself.

"Why are you here?" I inquired, a sincere spike of curiosity led me to ask this question.

The look in his eyes transformed, they seemed to ignite right in front of me.

"Do you realize how much of our goddamn medical resources we used on you to help you get better? We turned away other people who needed help because we wanted to fucking help you," he replied viciously, "I'm here only because I needed to make sure that you were more than just dead weight."

Before I could respond, he stormed out of the room and left the sound of a slamming door reverberating through my ears.


	2. Curiosity Killed the Faye

I wasn't able to calculate how many days flew by since my encounter with _the one and only Negan,_ and I couldn't shake his fiery glare that singed my skin. The heat that emanated throughout the room melted the walls and everything inside them. During all the tests Dr. Carson put me through, my eyes stayed glued to the infirmary door, an anxious war inside me stirred and conjured up more emotions than I could count.

"Faye," Dr. Carson murmured to me, shaking me from that very war that plagued me, "you've been cleared to leave."

I nodded and asked, "what do I do now?"

"I've been told Dwight will be here to help you get settled in," he replied, looking back to his notes for confirmation, "I don't know when, but just hold tight. He'll probably be here soon."

I let myself fall back into the hospital-esque bed. I was reluctant to leave and venture out into The Sanctuary. What laid beyond that door intimidated me to a degree of palpable fear. My stomach churned at the visions I evoked in my mind. Images of humanoid monsters slaughtering and demolishing everything in their path danced their way across my thoughts. I knew this wasn't realistic, but in a way, _it was_.

After what I've experienced, it would come as no surprise to me if every resident of this "sanctuary" were a monster in one way or another. I had already experienced first-hand what some of them were like and I could guarantee this wasn't going to be an easy transition from the wasteland.

 _Maybe the concussion was some kind of initiation,_ I joked internally.

My eyes jolted open at the sound of knocking on the infirmary door. It swung open and a man with medium-long and unkempt blonde hair and an overall disheveled appearance stood in the threshold. I inwardly cringed as I noticed half of his face was covered with a horrible scar. I had no idea where it came from, but it made his skin looked wrinkled and disfigured. I felt sorry for him no matter the circumstances.

"Dwight?" I questioned, trying my best not to stare. He nodded, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

"You feeling okay?" He inquired, seeming genuinely concerned.

"Yes," I reassured him, "I think I'm okay."

He stared down at his boots, the corners of his lips curling slightly upwards. He seemed relieved.

"Anyway," he mumbled, clearing his throat, "I should show you to your room."

"My room?" I responded with a tinge of confusion in my voice. His smile grew and he motioned for me to follow him. Before our departure, I made sure to thank Dr. Carson profusely for taking such good care of me over the last month. We both waved to him as we left the room, a wave of anxiety washing over me the second the door closed.

The hallway was well-lit for the most part, with an occasional flickering or dimmed light. Everything seemed to be concrete or metal and definitely qualified as the least aesthetically pleasing building I'd ever set foot in.

He led me up a staircase into a new hall with decorations above, beside, or on the doors; some even had welcome mats. I didn't expect this so it came off very strange to me.

We passed several of these rooms before reaching a little over the halfway mark. I watched closely as Dwight dug through his pockets. He pulled out a small bronze key and handed it to me.

"This one's yours," he affirmed, "you don't have a roommate for now, so enjoy it while it lasts."

I slid the key into the lock and opened the door hesitantly, peeking through as the image slowly filled the frame. I flipped the light switch and noticed it was mostly empty besides a twin-sized bed and a dresser. The walls and floor were the same off-grey and there wasn't much else to it. I thanked Dwight and headed inside.

"Wait," he blurted just as I was closing the door, "I forgot to give you this."

He handed me a royal blue colored folder that had some weight to it.

"What's this for?" I wondered, flipping it open.

"It's like 'The Sanctuary for Dummies' if you will," he quipped, "it has all kinds of information about the place—rules, directions, and a map I think—tucked inside of there. It'll help you."

Before I could reply, he added, "and if there's anything you don't understand, just come and find me."

"Okay, I will," I said with a smile, waving goodbye to him as he nodded and began to walk away. I shut the door behind me and fell into the embrace of the twin-sized bed.

* * *

I had lost track of time while studying the notebook; I assumed it was several hours since I started getting to know my new home through wrinkled papers and scribbled handwriting. The map left me puzzled and unsure of myself. I could tell there were multiple floors and such, but overall, whoever made it wasn't good at their job.

"Cafeteria," I mumbled under my breath, "first floor."

I decided to test my bravery by trying to find the cafeteria, honestly because I was famished. The food Dr. Carson gave me wasn't high in quantity or quality and I craved something more edible. I left the map behind and made my way down the steps closest to me. The sounds of my movement echoed across the hall.

To my surprise, I was actually able to find it, albeit after several wrong turns and backtracks. As I gazed in, I watched as people lined up by a serving window and my ears were flooded with the noise of the bustling cafeteria. I slowly made my way inside, grabbing a tray from the nearest tray rack. I squeezed past a few people—who were obnoxious and blocked the way—to find a place in line. The servers were quite friendly. They welcomed me and gave me an extra serving of the stir-fry. It smelled delicious and certainly would be the best meal I've had in months.

My eyes drifted among the diners, and I happened to notice Dwight sitting alone on one of the tables in the far upper-right corner of the cafeteria. I sat down next to him without a word and began eating my food.

"Still doing ok?" he asked in between bites.

I nodded in response, almost wolfing down my dinner. After my mouth was no longer full, I added, "I'm a little overwhelmed."

He chuckled and took a sip of water.

"Yeah, I know how you feel," he replied.

Dwight had some free time, so after dinner, he agreed to walk with me around and give me an actual tour of the place. He showed me everything there was to see, which was actually quite a bit. He led me through the market and had bought me a few things with his "points". I made sure to make a mental note of it all and thanked him after he walked me back to my room.

It was getting late, and as I laid in my bed I began to think about some of what he told me. He mentioned a point system, and that I would soon be assigned a job and points were crucial to have. He told me that his wife had "opted out" of that, and he gave me no answer when I questioned him about it. I wanted so desperately to fall asleep and allow my mind to take a break. However, after tossing and turning for over an hour, I knew it was no longer an option.

I scrambled out of bed and onto my feet, pulling on a pair of navy blue slip-ons that Dwight bought for me. I grabbed the map and headed out the door, making sure to lock it. I followed the map and explored the second floor, the one I was on until I got it down pretty well. I decided I should move on to explore the first floor. However, I came to a stop in front of the staircase and my eyes darted upwards. All logical thinking went out the window and my curiosity got the best of me. I tiptoed up the stairs to the third floor. It wasn't much different than the second, there were still some decorations and such strung about. I let my face sink into the map to study it as I aimlessly wandered about through the hallway.

My face drained of all color when I ran into something—or _someone_ —the map slipping out of my trembling fingers.

I watched in horror as a shadowy figure loomed in front of me and picked up the map. What little light there was shined upon his features, and my already racing heart palpitated more when I realized who it was. A scowl was plastered across his face and his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes reflected the same inferno they did in the infirmary.

He inhaled sharply and took a step toward me, the map still in hand.

" _What in the holy hell do you think you're doing up here?"_


End file.
